Between Homes (The City Between Book 5)

by W. R. Gingell

  Between Homes

  The City Between: Book Five

  W.R. Gingell

  Copyright © 2019 by W.R. Gingell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  In celebration of liberty, the bonds of family, and the ability to choose.

  (Especially the liberty to choose to sleep in.)

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

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  Chapter One

  They reckon there are two types of people; that there are two ways of seeing the world. You can see it in a glass-half-full kinda way, or a glass-half-empty kinda way.

  That’s garbage. There are two ways of seeing the world, all right, but they don’t have anything to do with glasses—unless someone out there has managed to make glasses that help you see Between, of course.

  Heck, maybe someone has. They haven’t shared it with the rest of the world though, so for all intents and purposes, there are only two ways of seeing the world: like a human, and like a Behindkind. Most of us humans see the world in the human way. We see the human world: work, home, city streets, country lanes, seasons that come and go, and a few animals every now and then.

  Then there are those who see the world like Behindkind. You probably don’t know what Behindkind are, so let me explain how they see the world. They see the human world as though it’s the creamy top layer of a trifle. If they want to, they can sink down beneath that layer into the custard—that’s Between, the space between the human world and the world Behind, where a walking stick could be a sword, and the nice little old lady next door could actually be a group of gremlins in a floral dress. Between, stuff from the human world sinks down and becomes a bit more, and stuff from Behind pokes up and changes what it looks like, and if you know how to look at it right, you can make it be whichever form you want it to be. Then when they go deeper, Behindkind see the world Behind, a savage place where most things want to kill you for food or fun, and fae learn to kill before they learn to love.

  When humans look at the world, they see all they know to see—all they’re allowed to see. When Behindkind look at the world, they see layers. And when they look at humans, they see prey—or pets.

  But sometimes…sometimes, a human can learn to see the world in the Behindkind way.

  Which explains why when I woke up from the same old nightmare, screaming and fighting, I punched a werewolf in the nose. Because I don’t exactly see the world like a normal human.

  The werewolf fell onto its currently human backside, clutching its nose while blood seeped through its fingers, and made a muffled complaint of “Ow! Pet!”

  I dropped back down onto my bed in relief, bouncing a bit. Somehow or other, I’d managed to get up into a fighting stance before I was properly awake, which meant that the fighting training I’d had over the last half year or so was beginning to take.

  Not that that was much good: the fae who’d taught me how to fight had also kicked me out of my own house. It wasn’t likely I was going to get to learn much more now.

  “Sorry,” I said, to Daniel. Without his help, I would have been turned into a werewolf myself a little while ago; he definitely didn’t deserve to be punched in the nose. “You shouldn’t stand next to my bed when I’m having nightmares.”

  I mean, technically speaking, it wasn’t so much nightmares as The Nightmare, but either way, it wasn’t safe to be standing nearby when I woke up. These days, I had a habit of being ready to fight before I was aware enough to do it safely.

  “You were sweating,” Daniel said.

  “It’s gross that you know that.”

  “I’m a werewolf. I’m not going to go around with a peg on my nose for you. I came up to see what the go was, and you started yelling. I thought something had got into the house.”

  “Nah,” I said. “Next time, don’t worry about it if you hear me yelling. And stop smelling me.”

  He rolled his eyes at me and got up. “I’m making breakfast for Morgana,” he said. “Come up when you’re ready. I’ll keep you some toast.”

  “I’m ready now,” I said. If someone else was doing the cooking, I was definitely ready.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I noticed. How come you sleep in your clothes?”

  “So I’m ready to punch werewolves in the nose during the night,” I told him, and threw the box of tissues at him.

  “You can punch me in your pyjamas, you know,” Daniel said, dabbing at his nose with a bundle of tissues as I got off the bed.

  “I don’t have pyjamas,” I said. I was pretty sure I hadn’t ever had pyjamas. You don’t know what’s gunna happen in the middle of the night, and there are some times you need to get up and out of the house unexpectedly. Dad never had pyjamas—I was pretty sure Zero didn’t have any, either. JinYeong maybe had some. Athelas definitely had them; I wouldn’t put it past him to have a silken pair or two about the house—or to be just as deadly in them as he was in his usual clothes.

  “That’s not normal,” Daniel said. “Mind you, I suppose that’s what happens when you live with Behindkind.”

  He wasn’t wrong: there’s a reason Daniel calls me Pet, and it’s not because it’s my name.

  I am a pet.

  Well, I was a pet. I used to belong to two fae and a vampire: Zero, JinYeong, and Athelas. All I had to do was cook for them, clean for them, and not be too much of an annoyance. If I did that while they hunted for the murderer they were after, I would have my house back to myself again once they were done in the human world. And this time, I’d actually own the place.

  Only there had been a man—probably there had been more than one since they first arrived—they could have saved, and didn’t. Someone I might have been able to save, but didn’t.

  So here I am, staying at a friend’s place while I try to figure things out. I’m not quite sure what I am now. Just a human again? Maybe, but now I’m a human who can see the bits of reality that are underneath the human bits, so I’m not quite what I used to be.

  I’m not a pet anymore, either.

  “Anyway,” Daniel said, heading through the door with bloody tissues stuffed beneath his nose, “you don’t need to worry about me waking you up again if you’re only going to punch me in the nose for it.”

  “I don’t always punch,” I said, following a bit more slowly. I felt hard done by. I should have known the nightmare would start up again when I left the house, but somehow it hadn’t occurred to me. “Sometimes I just scream at people.”

  When you live with two deadly fae and a stroppy vampire whose cologne could make a wild pig’s eyes water, there’s not much that dares to come inside, and that includes nightmares. After being on my own for so many years, I’d too quickly gotten used to the new warmth of movement and tone that came with housemates. I hadn’t realised that wasn’t all I’d be giving up when I left.

  “Yeah, that’s much better,” Daniel said, his sarcasm echoing back up the stairs at me. Further up, I heard the faint echo of running footsteps, too.


  Remember how I said there’s layers to the world? Well, there’s layers to the house, too: not like Between and Behind, of course, but layers of people. One layer is me and Daniel, just a human and a werewolf, interlopers technically. This isn’t our house, but we’re allowed to stay because of Morgana. She’s the second layer, even though she lives in the top level of the house. Morgana is the first human friend I’ve ever had—the first really human one. The first real friend. Daniel is a lycanthrope, and Detective Tuatu might be human, but he’s a cop, which isn’t exactly what you think of when you think friend.

  The third layer is the kids. I don’t know where they bunker down, or why they don’t want to be seen—Morgana reckons it’s ’cos they’re scared, but I’m not sure—but all I’ve ever heard of them is running footsteps. That and muffled, indistinct insults they toss at Daniel over the bannisters. They don’t like him much, but they seem fine with me. They don’t want to talk to me, mind you, but they don’t seem to hate me like they do Daniel.

  “Oi!” I yelled after him, charging down the stairs as I was reminded of something I’d seen last night, “mind the roller skates on the stairs!”

  “Already moved ’em!” he called back, but I’d already caught up by then. To the stairwell above, he yelled, “Stop trying to kill me, you troppo little beggars!”

  Daniel was used to scrapping with his packmates, and the bruises and scrapes that came with that, and I was used to scrapping with the psychos, and all the cuts and aches that came with that, so neither of us thought too much of his nose until we took the breakfast up to Morgana.

  When she caught sight of Daniel, Morgana’s face went even paler under her makeup. “What happened?”

  “Pet punched me,” said Daniel, self-consciously putting a hand over his nose to cover it. It wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, but since Morgana fainted at the sight of blood, that was probably best.

  Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

  “Hey!” protested Daniel. “I only tried to wake her up from a nightmare! Why should I get punched in the face?”

  “I said I was sorry,” I muttered. I pinched a piece of toast, and to Morgana said, “He didn’t do anything wrong; I socked him one because I thought he was part of the nightmare.”

  “You had it again?”

  Every night, I thought, but I didn’t say that aloud. Instead, I asked, “Again? You heard me last time?”

  “The kids did. They said you’ve been yelling the last couple of nights.”

  “They said she shouldn’t be bringing nightmares into the house, actually,” said Daniel, below his breath. The kids might not like him, but at least the feeling was mutual. “I heard them.”

  “They don’t understand about nightmares,” Morgana said excusingly, digging into the porridge. “They’re just worried about me.”

  “Nightmares aren’t contagious!” I yelled toward the ceiling. When I did hear something of them, it was always from the upper parts of the house. “Anyway, you’ve already got your own.”

  “But she doesn’t wake me up with hers,” interjected Daniel.

  I nearly snorted, because if he could smell me sweating, he must be able to smell Morgana sweating, too.

  Before I could, Daniel added, “She doesn’t belt me one, either.”

  I was going to say something rude to that, too, but I had punched him, so I didn’t.

  Morgana asked, ignoring him, “Pet, haven’t you got any other clothes?”

  I grimaced a bit. “What? I don’t stink: I’ve been washing ’em.”

  Daniel muttered something, but I don’t reckon he meant either of us to hear it.

  “Yeah,” said Morgana, “but you’ve gotta have more than one set of clothes to wear.”

  “I’ll get something today,” I said. Morgana had already offered me some clothes, but I didn’t fit her mum’s stuff, and there was no way I’d be able to squeeze into Morgana’s own clothes. I wasn’t much for the black lace, either.

  “You don’t even have any money,” said Daniel beneath his breath.

  That was true enough. I had about a hundred in my pocket that was supposed to have been grocery money, but technically it wasn’t mine: I’d accidentally stolen it from my old owners. Still, I needed the clothes.

  “Got enough,” I said. “Oi, Morgana. You reckon the kids’ll want spaghetti for lunch? Found some bay leaves and tomato paste up in the cupboards, and there’s noodles everywhere.”

  “I’ll ask them,” she said. “Sorry they’re being like this. I haven’t ever had anyone else in the house, you see. They don’t like having to share me.”

  “Put it up on the roof again?”

  “Yeah. It’s the only place they’ll eat if it’s not in my kitchen.”

  “Okay,” I said, snagging another piece of toast. “Right, I’m off.”

  I was opening the front door when Daniel’s voice said from behind me, “I’m coming with you. As far as Campbell street, anyway: I’ve got a shift today.”

  “When you say shift—”

  “I’ve already heard that one,” he muttered, shoving past me.

  I followed him, grinning anyway, but when we got close to the supermarket on Campbell street where Daniel worked, the grin vanished. I grabbed Daniel by the arm and dragged him back behind the car we’d just walked past.

  “Oi,” I said. “Reckon you better not go to work today.”

  Daniel shook himself free. “What? What did you see?”

  “Upper Management, I reckon,” I said. In the quick, cold glance I’d had of the shop front before I ducked for cover, I’d seen a familiar suited figure with a horrible blankness where its face should have been.

  “Typical,” muttered Daniel. “Who is it? The Sandman again?”

  “Yeah,” I said, shuffling backward. “What’s the deal, anyway? How come Upper Management keeps following you? They were after you when you were recovering, too. Did you see something you shouldn’t have seen?”

  “Don’t know exactly,” Daniel said grimly. “But I don’t like it. I reckon they think I know a bit too much about their operation after Erica. If the Sandman catches up with me—”

  “Kill you, will it?”

  “Nah. It’ll take all my memories away, though.”

  “Oh. Wait, all of ’em?”

  “Everything since the thing they don’t want me to remember. Erica had a bit of a deal with them to keep us better hidden, but I don’t know exactly what it was. They weren’t really happy about the mess I left in their offices a few months ago, either.”

  “What are we gunna do about it, then? Sooner or later, they’ll manage to follow us home.”

  “We’ll be careful,” said Daniel. “Anyway, I’ve got a plan. Wait and see. C’mon. Let’s go get you some clothes, instead.”

  We got some jeans and t-shirts from the nearest opshop: nothing special, but they were something to wear until I had enough money to buy more. Or got up the courage to go back to the house and get my stuff. After all, just because I’d left the psychos, there was no reason that they should get to keep my stuff.

  “I’ll have to do something about that, too,” Daniel said, scowling, when we were nearly back at the house.

  I followed his eyes and saw JinYeong with his shoulders propped against the bricks by the front door. I stopped short before the gate, just out of sight, and huffed an annoyed breath.

  “How long has he been there, you reckon?”

  “Beggared ’f I know,” I muttered. JinYeong hadn’t seen us yet, but it wouldn’t be long.

  “Great,” said Daniel. “As if the kids weren’t bad enough, now we’ve got two pest problems. It’s probably because you kissed him.”

  “What? I didn’t kiss him!”

  “I saw you the other night—you’re just lucky Morgana didn’t see. If you’re going to have a crush on someone, you could at least—”

  “I don’t have a crush on him! That’s flaming weird!”

  “Yeah? How come you we
re kissing him, then?”

  “I wasn’t kissing the vampire!” I protested. “He kissed me!”

  “What for?”

  “Give you one guess.”

  “Beggared if I know, with that vampire. The Troika never do stuff for the reason you think they do.”

  “He wanted to be able to get into the house without asking for permission.”

  There was a brief silence from Daniel. “What a pain in the neck!” he said, at last. He glared at me when I snorted a laugh. “I don’t want him in there!”

  “I don’t want him in the house either!” I said.

  “You were the one kissing—don’t you punch me, Pet!”

  “For the last time,” I said, glaring at him, “I didn’t kiss the vampire! He kissed me. It took me by surprise, and I didn’t figure it out in time. If you think it’s bad for you, what d’you reckon it’s like for me? I’m the one that got kissed!”

  “Well, at least we know you haven’t got fae blood in you!” he said, grinning. “Not enough to matter, anyway. You’d be getting pretty sick by now if you did.”

  “Of course I don’t have fae blood: I’m a human. Hang on, what do you mean, not enough?”

  “Well,” said Daniel, looking surprised, “if you’re half blood, that’s enough to get really sick from vampire saliva, and if your mum’s the fae, you’d probably die. If your mum’s the human and you’ve got more human than fae, you’ll get sick but you probably won’t die.”

  “What about Zero?” I asked, with one eye on JinYeong, who had stiffened.

  His head cocked, then slowly scanned from side to side, eyes bright, until they fell on me. One eyebrow went up.

  “What about Zero?”

  “He’d die from it, right?”

  “Yeah, definitely.”